


Ribbons

by Achrya



Series: Samtember [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Family Feels, Feels, Gen, Minor Character Death, Sad, Samtember, Samtember2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 06:24:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4818479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Achrya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam was 15 the first time he helps his younger sisters with their hair.</p><p>Prompt: For Samtember, Day 1: Memories</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ribbons

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: For Samtember, Day 1: Memories,   
> Notes: I’m working on another story where one of the major plot points is Sam taking care of Bucky’s hair, which lead me to the personal headcanon that Sam had sisters and helped with their hair.

Sam was 15 the first time he helps his younger sisters with their hair. After that it would become a regular thing and he’d teach himself a lot of different styles, trying to keep up with the whims of two teenage girls. He would never admit it outloud but he kind of looked forward to it; a few hours once or twice a week to just sit with his sisters and do something for them, help take care of them while their mother was working long shifts in the ER. As they got older they’d whine and complain, insisting they didn’t need to be babies or taken care of, but they always sat patiently while he worked.

But the first time was a matter of necessity.

It was the day of their father’s funeral and their mother was running from one end of the house to the other, up and down the stairs, half dressed with the cordless phone tucked under her ear. She’d told the twins to sit on the couch to wait for her but Sam was getting the feeling she’d actually forgotten all about it.

She’d been busy since their father had died. Things to arrange, people to talk to, hours spent in the church office looking at paperwork; she was always moving, always doing something. She was sleeping on the couch every night, papers strewn over the coffee table and notebooks full of plane arrival times and hotel names on her lap.

He tried to catch her attention once but she’d just smiled at him and said something about fixing his tie before vanishing back up the stairs. He walked back to the living room where Lacey and Sarah were waiting, box of hair things sitting between them. They still in their pajamas, sleepy, red eyed, and slumping against each other, silent.

It wasn’t like them. They were always together, shoulder to shoulder, smiling and whispering behind their hands, making faces and tormenting him when their parents weren’t looking, but now they were quiet except when they were crying and they didn’t even do that anymore, having eventually cried themselves out.

Sam had cried too, the first day after the cops had come by to let them know about what had happened, but not since. His mother was busy, stretched thin and trying to make everything work out, so it was up to him to fill in. Keep the girls going, keep them fed, make sure they were doing okay.

“C’mon, I’ll do your hair.”

They exchanged skeptical looks but soon enough he was on the couch with Lacey sitting on the floor between his legs, a large pillow underneath her. He touched the top of her head, thinking.

He’d watched his mother do his sisters’ hair hundreds of times. She would have them take out their hair and wash it after they got home from school then, after dinner, they would all pile into the living room. Homework would be done, days talked about, church updates given, and all the stuff they were planning to do gone over while the TV or radio droned in the background.

He carefully worked the wide toothed comb through her hair, parting through the center then again on the left and right. He formed smaller sections from there, small diamond shaped sections of hair, working coconut scented cream through the tight coils, paying attention to her scalp and the ends. He carefully stretched the hair, holding it firmly, before splitting the section into two and twisting the strands around each other.  

He kept the twists tight and even, stopping periodically to make sure they were uniform and went the same direction. Soon there was a mass of twists, long black glistening ropes swinging between her shoulder blades, ends curling gently.

“Oh, girls I-” Their mother dashed into the room then stopped. Sam looked up at her, watching her blink at them with red-rimmed eyes. She had the phone in her hand and Sam could hear someone’s voice, a tinny whine, coming through.

She walked over, heels clicking on the hardwood floor, and bent down to look at Lacey before nodding. “Green ribbons I think and the green dresses. Your dad liked those. Have you eaten? You need to eat. I can cook.”

She turned and hurried out, putting the phone back to her ear. Sarah held out a hand with a length of pastel green ribbon; Sam pulled the twists back at the top, leaving the back free, and wound the ribbon around it and tied a loose knot, letting the excess fall down. to brush over dark brown skin. She hopped up and Sarah took her spot, sinking down into the pillow.

He repeated the process, a little quicker, fingers threading carefully through tight coils to loosen them, knuckles brushing over the diamond shaped parts, tidy dark ropes taking shape. Lacey came back, a scarf wrapped around her hair, to give her twin toast and bacon before hurrying off to get dressed.

He finished up with another ribbon, this time in a low ponytail, and sent Sarah on her way before heading to the kitchen, wanting to grab something for himself. He wasn’t hungry, hadn’t been for days, but his mother wanted them to eat so he would.

He found her sitting at the table, phone in front of her, head bowed with a hand over her eyes. Her shoulders were shaking but she wasn’t making any noise.

“Mom?”

She started, head snapping up. Her eyes were wet and dark trails had snaked down over her cheeks. She shook her head and pushed her chair back, legs scraping over the floor.

“Eat something Sammy.” She looked to the side while rubbing at her face. Then she looked back at him, a smile flashing over her lips and then fading almost instantly. She walked closer then reached out, rubbing a hand over his head. “Thank you.”

\---

“Uncle Sam?” Soft skin patted his cheek.

There was a moment of fear, heart clenching, throat choking fear, as he sat bolt upright, reaching for his sidearm, and looked around, unsure of where he was. Too soft, too closed in, too strange, not right, he couldn’t-

“Uncle Sam?” Another pat, this one to his hand. He blinked, world sharpening and taking shape. He was in Lacey’s living room in DC, crashing on the couch while he tried to decide what he was going to do with himself next.

He was a wreck and he knew it. Could barely sleep, wasn’t eating, jumping at every noise and shadow, and the nightmares were eating him up. He knew what it all meant, the signs, but he couldn’t do anything but just...sink.

He forced a smile and scooped up the young girl standing in front of him, hauling her into his lap. A look to the right found Lacey standing in the doorway, watching them with careful dark eyes. He flashed her a smile and she nodded before turning and heading back into the kitchen.

“Hey Mariana. What do you need?”

She smiled and waved the comb in her hand in front of his face. “Mommy said you do my hair.”

He gave her a little squeeze then nodded, tugging at a tight dark curl.

He could do this too.


End file.
